


1932

by BucksomeBarnes (Freckled_Halos)



Series: The Before [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1930s, First Kiss, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Sneaking Around, Teenagers, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 02:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15571758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckled_Halos/pseuds/BucksomeBarnes
Summary: Bucky and Steve share a significant first this year and it just keeps on going...





	1. April

APRIL 1932          

 

Steve sat on the asphalt, bruising and dejected.

Bucky yelled something profane at Big Johnny as he chased him from the alleyway, spitting on the ground in his direction.

Bounding back towards Steve, Bucky knelt down, gently taking Steve’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Jeez, Steve,” he started, maneuvering Steve’s face to the left to get a better look at the welt on his cheekbone. “He got you pretty good, huh?”

Steve swatted Bucky’s hand away and dabbed at the broken skin with the back of his hand. “I’ve had worse. It’s fine, Buck.”

“No, it’s not,” he replied, stern. “Sometimes I think you get into spats like this on purpose.”

Steve let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause my ideal Thursday afternoon is getting pushed around in an alley by a huge goon like Johnny Miller.” 

Bucky eased himself down so he was sitting directly across from Steve. Quietly, he asked, “Then why d’you always end up here?”

Steve looked Bucky in the eyes, expression fiery. “Because huge goons like Johnny Miller deserve it.”

Bucky pursed his lips before taking ahold of Steve’s chin again, lifting his head up. Steve’s gaze softened as Bucky looked at him for a long while, wordless. He hesitated, looking warily at Steve before gently brushing the back of his fingers across the bruise on Steve’s cheek.

Steve winced and shut his eyes, but didn’t turn away from Bucky’s touch. Bucky’s hand ghosted along Steve’s face and jaw before settling lightly on his neck. Steve’s breath hitched slightly as Bucky rubbed his thumb along soft skin. After a few moments of stillness, Steve finally opened his eyes, looking intently at Bucky who was staring at Steve’s mouth.

“Buck—”

But before Steve could finish his thought, Bucky dove forward, mashing his lips against Steve’s. Steve’s eyes shot open, staring at Bucky’s eyelids before he pulled away seconds later. Goosebumps prickled up on every inch of Steve’s body as he sat, frozen still, unable to tear his gaze away from Bucky’s.

Bucky withdrew his hand, clutching at the collar of his shirt as his face turned red. Suddenly, he stood, leaving Steve craning his neck to look up at him.

“I…” was all Bucky could get out before he turned on his heel and sprinted out of the alley and disappeared from Steve’s view.

Steve brought trembling fingers up to his tingling lips, trying to comprehend what just happened. He sat there for a little while longer before finally forcing himself up and brushing the dirt from his pants. Dazed, Steve walked the three blocks home. He passed the Barnes’ on the way there, but Bucky was nowhere to be seen, so he pressed on, eyebrows furrowed. Steve felt like crying, but he didn’t exactly know why. He had dreamed about kissing Bucky for months now, but he never thought it would ever actually happen. He knew it was wrong and certainly not what he should be thinking about in regards to his best friend, but every night Steve laid in his small bed, unable to fall asleep, the only thing that lulled him off was the thought of Bucky there with him. Bucky with his big rough hands and dark brown hair. Bucky whose cheeks dimpled when he smiled. Bucky who was tall and strong and _safe_.

He felt guilty about it every morning, especially on the mornings he woke up hard and wanting. This was his best friend. His _male_ best friend. But Steve couldn’t help it. No amount of hoping or praying or forcing could ever make him stop thinking about Bucky.

And now he was infinitely more confused.

Reaching home, Steve wandered mindlessly up the steps to his and his mother’s apartment, fumbling around in his pockets for his key. Once inside, Steve flopped down into a chair at the kitchen table, propping his elbows up and letting his face fall into his hands. The pressure produced a shock of pain from Steve’s bruised cheek and he hissed a breath in. Easing up from the table, he grabbed a clean butter knife and a hand towel. Opening the icebox, he chipped off a few chunks of ice as best he could, wrapped them in the towel, and gently pressed it to his face. Steve shuffled down the hallway and into his bedroom, collapsing on his bed with a creak.

He stared at the ceiling, unseeing. It wasn’t long before his vision blurred and slow tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes, rolling down the sides of his cheeks. Steve’s face scrunched up as he shifted onto his side, bringing his knees up to his chest. He stayed like that, balled up and tearful, until the ice in the hand towel melted too much to hold onto.

\--

Bucky ran from the alley, down the sidewalk, and across the street before finally slowing down, trying to collect himself. He ran his hands violently through his hair, sending it sticking out in all directions. He turned the corner, breathing heavy, and bounded up the steps to his family’s rowhome. His mother was home and the door unlocked. Bucky slipped in, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“James, sweetheart, is that you?” His mother called from the kitchen down the hall.

“I’m real tired, Ma. Gonna just go lie down,” he called before running up the steps and into his bedroom. He shut the door and leaned his back against it, sliding down to the floor with a light thud. 

What the hell did he just do? And why? Well, alright, he knew why, but that didn’t make it any less of a terrible decision. And then to just run off, leaving Steve sitting on the dirty ground of an alleyway…what kind of friend was he? Bucky had half a mind to go back, make sure Steve was okay and try to explain himself, but what was he supposed to say? Bucky didn’t even know himself.

He buried his hands in his hair again before sinking his face into his palms. What the _hell_ did he just do? The thought of seeing Steve at the street corner tomorrow made Bucky’s stomach flip, but he couldn’t tell if it was because he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from kissing Steve again right there or because he was more humiliated than he’d ever thought possible. Only time would tell.

\--

It turned out that Bucky was more humiliated than he’d ever thought possible. Seeing Steve waiting for him on the sidewalk the next day, Bucky panicked and crossed the street, avoiding him at all costs. He knew it wasn’t the right thing to do and it certainly wasn’t what Bucky wanted, but he couldn’t bring himself to face Steve. He just couldn’t.

In the following days, Bucky left for school early to avoid crossing paths with him and he’d wait to walk back home until much later for the same reason. He couldn’t even think about Steve without blushing and when his mother asked why Steven hadn’t come around in a few days, Bucky immediately blurted out a lie much too fast and much too loud before running up to his room and slamming the door.

A full week passed before Bucky felt like he could look at Steve Rogers without wanting to die.

It was a Tuesday and Bucky decided to finally meet Steve at their street corner after school. Steve came shuffling up, the mark on his cheek now yellow and fading.

“Hey,” Bucky mumbled, clutching at his schoolbooks.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Hey.”

“Listen, Steve, I—”

“We don’t have t’ talk about it, Buck,” he grumbled.

They continued down the street towards the candy shop, falling in step with each other.

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky breathed, feeling both relieved and hurt.

A few quiet minutes later, they reached the store and easily fell into their routine. Bucky got a box of Milk Duds and Necco wafers and treated Steve to his usual Reese’s cup before they both set out for the Barnes’. They sat on the front stoop, eating their candy in the cool afternoon.

Bucky so desperately wanted to talk about it, but every time he felt the urge to say something, he shoved more candy into his mouth instead. He wanted to apologize for running off. He wanted to tell Steve he liked kissing him and ask if he liked it too. He wanted to do it again. And again. And again. But Steve clearly didn’t want it brought up and while the potential reasoning for that ate at Bucky’s insides, he played along and stayed quiet.

What Bucky didn’t know was that Steve was close to bursting with the same feelings. He wanted to ask why Bucky did it. Was it pity? Was it somehow Bucky’s twisted way of showing Steve what he was missing out on? No, that wasn’t something Bucky would do. Was it? But why else would James Buchanan Barnes voluntarily _kiss_ Steven Grant Rogers _on the mouth_? An answer to that question lingered in the back of Steve’s mind, but he refused to acknowledge it because entertaining that thought would only lead to heartbreak. Wouldn’t it?

Neither of them quite understood what was going on. Both of them had had crushes before, sure, but only on girls up until this point. And this didn’t feel the same anyway—for either of them. Was this actually just some unusually powerful friendship and they’re just getting caught up in the romance of daydreaming or was it something else? Either option felt terrifying.

But neither Steve nor Bucky said anything about it.

In the next few weeks, Bucky threw himself at any girl who would take him, which proved to be no challenge at all. He’d take them dancing, out for Cokes, then find somewhere to neck them, trying (and failing) to not think about Steve the entire time.

Steve, however, took the opposite approach. He pulled away, avoiding any invitation to go out and unable to look at practically any girl with any interest. He spent the evenings at home alone, listening to the radio and studying, trying (and failing) to not think about Bucky the entire time.

 

 

 

 


	2. September

SEPTEMBER 1932              

 

It was a Thursday afternoon, crunchy leaves blowing down the streets, when Steve and Bucky were walking towards the Rogers’ after school.

“We should still be able to catch the last few innings of the game,” Bucky said, running a hand along his slicked back hair.

“Good,” Steve answered, trailing a few steps behind. “We better cream those Giants.”

Bucky looked back at Steve with a smirk.

They reached Steve’s apartment a few minutes later and burst in, dropping their books at the front door and kicking off their loafers. Bucky hopped onto the sofa as Steve turned on the radio, tuning it to the appropriate station.

Steve grabbed two apples from the kitchen and tossed one to Bucky before taking a seat next to him, tucking his knees up to his chest. 

They listened to the last three innings, intent and quiet. By then, it would have taken a miracle for the Giants to catch up, but they never celebrated too early—that’s just bad luck. 

The radio crackled and buzzed. “And Giant’s batter Mel Ott is at the plate. The Dodgers are up five runs with two outs on the board. Quinn winds up for the pitch…strike one.”

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, Steve nibbling at his apple core.

“Swing and…strike two.”

They both stood up, listening intently.

“Wind up…and…strike three! Dodgers win seven to two against the New York Giants!”

They both cried out in celebration, Bucky punching a fist in the air. They leapt towards each other, embracing, awkwardly jumping up and down a few times to the sound of the crowd cheering through the radio.

They were both laughing as they pulled a fraction away from one another, heavy breaths breezing across each other’s faces. The laughing died down as they slowly made eye contact. Steve was acutely aware of Bucky’s arms wrapped around his neck, the smell of soap and apple drifting off of him. Eyes wide, Steve looked up to meet Bucky’s gaze. Bucky was staring back down at him, big brown eyes roaming all over Steve’s face, lingering at his lips, before slowly locking into Steve’s stare.

The expression in Steve’s eyes was pure adrenaline and hunger. It made Bucky’s stomach flutter. He leaned down towards Steve’s face as Steve pushed up onto his toes, grasping at Bucky’s sides. Their lips met gently. Steve’s eyes slid shut as he relished in the feeling of Bucky’s mouth against his, soft and warm. They pulled apart only for a second, breathing heavy, before diving back in with more fervor. Bucky pressed his tongue up against Steve’s lips and he instinctually parted his mouth, letting Bucky inside. The feeling that burned in the pit of Steve’s stomach was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was a jumbled up mix of excitement, fear, arousal, and nerves, shooting all over Steve’s body and overpowering any thought that was trying to go through his mind. It was ten times better than the kiss in the alley and a million times better than Steve could have ever imagined.

Steve tightened his hold around Bucky’s torso as Bucky leaned in, supporting the back of Steve’s head with a large hand. They hastily licked at each other’s mouths, Steve hoping and praying he was doing everything right. It wasn’t the most graceful of embraces, but it was the most perfect thing either of them could have ever wanted.

Bucky pulled away, Steve pushing forward to maintain contact as long as he could. Their mouths parted with a wet _smack_ and Steve relaxed down onto his heels again, fluttering his eyes open to stare at Bucky.

Taking a shaky breath in and out, Bucky pulled a small smile. “Well.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed.

“That…”

“Yeah…”

They looked at each other for a few moments, quiet, before mashing themselves back together, sloppily sucking at each other’s mouths, hands clumsily sliding around each other’s bodies. Bucky warmly sighed a few times into Steve’s mouth. He tried to hide the weakness in his knees and the pounding of his heart as Steve pawed at the back of his shirt. Bucky gently scratched the back of Steve’s head, combing his fingers through thin blonde hair. Besides the heat in his stomach and want in his trousers, Bucky ironically felt like this was the most normal thing to be doing at the moment. Steve fit inside his arms perfectly, as if he was made to be there, and the subconscious feeling that gave Bucky was something he would never be able to shake nor describe.

After a few more minutes, they peeled away from each other, flushed and laughing shyly.

Bucky glanced at the clock hanging on the wall next to Steve’s front door and cleared his throat. “I should probably get home…”

“Yeah, alright,” Steve answered, taking a few steps back.

Bucky swerved closely around Steve, walking towards the door to slip his shoes on and collect his books. “I, um…I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Steve replied thickly. “Tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

They stood still, a few feet from each other, just staring. What was the right thing to say in a situation like this? Neither of them knew, so neither said anything. Bucky gave Steve a small wave before opening the door and slipping out. The door clicked shut and Steve let his face fall into his hands. He shook his head and looked around the room, one of his hands resting over his mouth, trying to suppress a smile.

He adjusted the radio until he found whatever comedy show was playing at the time and settled down onto the sofa. Steve pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. He spent the rest of the afternoon quietly enjoying the radio, getting lost in his daydreams, pushing away the doubt and fear that bubbled up in his chest. Steve wished with all his heart that that wasn’t the last kiss he would share with Bucky, but if it was, he didn’t want to forget one second of it.

 


	3. Thanksgiving

THANKSGIVING 1932     

 

“You look very handsome, dear,” Sarah smiled, leaning around the bathroom doorway where Steve was standing at the mirror, primping.

Steve tried not to blush as he looked at her reflection and smiled back.

“It was very sweet of Mrs. Barnes to invite us over,” Sarah called, turning away to gather her hat and purse.

“Yes,” Steve agreed, knowing full well Bucky was the one who had mentioned it at Steve’s suggestion. “It was.”

Steve looked at himself. His hair was parted deep on one side of his head and slicked down with (probably too much) pomade. He was wearing a tie that had belonged to his father and was one of the nicest things Steve owned. His suit was dark brown and slightly too big, but so was everything else Steve wore. His mother may have thought he looked handsome, but at this point, Steve was just hoping Bucky would too.

They walked the short distance to the Barnes,’ Steve carrying a casserole dish of candied sweet potatoes with a tray of fresh rolls perched on top. They stepped up the front stairs and knocked at the door. Mrs. Barnes opened it wide, with a smile. As his mother walked inside, Steve craned his neck to see Bucky whirl around the corner at the end of the hallway, beaming. Mrs. Barnes closed the door behind them and took the dishes from Steve and into the kitchen as Mrs. Rogers followed with light conversation.

Bucky jogged to the foyer, greeting Steve with a quick hug. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Steve breathed, taking in the scent of Bucky’s hair.

“Did you listen to the parade today?” Bucky asked, walking to the living room, mussing up little Becca’s hair from where she was sitting on the carpet.

Steve followed. “Yeah, you?”

“A bit,” Bucky answered, flopping down onto a sofa. His father was sitting in an armchair, smoking a thick cigar and reading the paper.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes,” Steve ventured, sitting carefully down on the couch next to Bucky.

Bucky’s father looked at Steve from behind the paper, dark eyes intense. “Hello, Steven.”

Mrs. Barnes called from the kitchen that dinner was ready and they all rose to take their seats in the dining room. The Barnes’ were at either head of the table, Bucky and Becca on one side, Steve and his mother on the other. The table was lush with steaming dishes, mostly from the Barnes’ own kitchen. Sarah did well enough for herself all things considered, but Steve knew they weren’t nearly as well off as Bucky’s family. But that was just fine.

Dinner was pleasant. They had the radio on in the background and Mr. Barnes only made two scathing political comments the entire evening. They had pumpkin pie for dessert before the adults retired to the living room for coffee.

Steve and Bucky took the opportunity to mumble a half-thought out excuse and run upstairs to Bucky’s bedroom. The instant the door closed, Steve lunged towards him, grabbing his waist and pulling him in. Bucky allowed himself to be lured forward and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck. Steve nipped at Bucky’s chin, feeling the hint of sparse stubble on his lips. Bucky sighed and relaxed into Steve’s grasp as if he had been holding his breath all day, waiting for this moment to finally exhale.

Bucky moved his hands to the sides of Steve’s small face, cupping his palms along Steve’s jaw. Leaning in, Bucky pressed his lips to Steve’s, slow at first, just a drawn out peck. When they parted, Steve looked up into Bucky’s eyes with an expression of pure adoration as he pawed at Bucky’s shirt. Smiling, Bucky dipped back down, coaxing Steve’s mouth open with his tongue. They stood in the middle of Bucky’s room, wetly working their lips together with increasing intensity. Bucky moved his hands from Steve’s face to wrap tightly around his small waist, eliciting a quiet whine from Steve’s warm mouth.

They stood together, running hands up and down wherever they could reach, mouths slick against the other. Both Steve and Bucky were getting increasingly aroused, but they knew now was not the time. Not with their parents downstairs. Bucky finally pulled away, holding Steve’s hips a safe distance away from his own. They were both breathing heavy, Bucky looking cautiously at Steve, listening for his breaths to go from a normal quickness to wracked and raspy.  

“You alright?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head, taking a few focused inhales. He smirked. “Better than alright.”

Bucky chuckled lowly and let go of Steve, licking his lips. “We should probably head back down soon.”

Nodding, Steve pressed the heels of his hands to his closed eyes. “Yeah. Just give me a second.”

They sat down heavily on Bucky’s bed. Steve smoothed down his hair as his breaths slowly calmed to a normal speed. Bucky sat, legs wide with elbows on his knees, his head hanging. Bucky set his head into one of his hands and glanced up to Steve’s flushed face.

“Steve?”

Steve turned towards Bucky. “Hm?”

Bucky blushed before he said anything and only got redder as he said, “You…you look real nice tonight.”

Steve too got even more flushed as he averted his eyes, trying to hide his smile. “Thanks. You look nice too.”

Bucky grinned openly, running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he began, tapping lightly at his thighs. “Ready?”

Steve nodded and stood, smoothing his tie and coat lapels. Bucky rose next to him and squeezed his hand gently before giving Steve one last kiss. They inspected each other, making sure there was no possible evidence of what they were up to before bounding back down the stairs.

They walked into the living room where Sarah was standing, pulling on her gloves and hat. “Steve, honey, are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” he lied. “Thank you so much for having us, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. Everything was delicious.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Barnes answered with a smile.

Steve took their cleaned dishes from the kitchen and followed his mother to the foyer. Bucky held the front door open for them, saying thank you to Sarah before eyeing Steve mischievously.

“See you on Monday?” Bucky asked, low.

“Yeah. Monday.” Steve breathed.

Bucky pressed his lips together as his eyes quickly raked up and down Steve’s body. Steve noticed and blushed, flattered and shy, before he and his mother walked out the door, down the stoop, and towards home.

**Author's Note:**

> I mentioned this in one of my Assembled Avengers works, but the baseball game stats are real. Not that it's a huge deal, I just feel the need to mention it haha speaking of accuracy, I've been trying to research '30s everything, as it comes up in the story. I want it to feel right and personally, there are things I definitely want to make sure are period accurate. That said, there are some little things i feel don't matter as much, so they may or may not be totally correct. In my brief research of the Depression, a lot of sources mentioned that depending on the type of jobs a family was supported by and their location/class/etc. people weren't affected by it as much as it may seem. So I applied that to the Barnes'. Plus, even if /I/ think Sarah working as a nurse and then passing away would leave Steve in a literal poor position, according to the MCU canon, he finishes high school and goes to art school for a few years. So I'm trying to keep all that in mind too. Just a few thoughts...!


End file.
